Nothing Like the Sun
by lone astronomer
Summary: Remus-angst set shortly after Order of the Phoenix and containing spoilers for aforementioned book.
1. Mourning

Nothing Like the Sun

lone astronomer

Disclaimer: I didn't write any of the Harry Potter books, especially _Order of the Phoenix_, because if I had, well… Let's not go there. Characters etc. are J.K. Rowling's to abuse as she sees fit, and I'm not making any profit.

Author's notes: I've taken to wearing black and staring up at the sky waiting for another star to appear, but it hasn't happened. All lyrics are from "Mrs. Potter's Lullaby" by _Counting Crows_, of which band I am not a member. 

Summary: Oh, help. It was supposed to be a nasty little one-shot of Remus-angst; my specialty. What have I done?

Nothing Like the Sun  
One: Mourning

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If dreams are like movies,  
Then memories are films about ghosts.

It wasn't as if life was empty. Life was much too full of everything for me to worry about trivialities such as boredom; there was no time for loneliness. Life meant being on duty and being too busy to worry, to have regrets, to sleep. That was the entire problem, I supposed. What was life when there was no one to distract you from the tedium of it all?

The problem, I reflected morosely, was that the only person I'd known who had always seemed ridiculously teeming with life, wasn't. Outside, in the courtyard of the ancient Black estate, everything was quiet. Kreacher, the ridiculous, untrustworthy, conniving, dirty house elf had been dealt with accordingly. The waning moon rose in the sky, obscuring light from any stars but illuminating the small, dusky mound of freshly upturned earth in the backyard. It didn't hold much in the way of remains, I knew, with a twinge that nearly brought the contents of my stomach up for reviewing. The problem was that now that 'life' had become synonymous with 'alone,' I wasn't sure it was what I wanted.

A chill breeze blew, odd for July, but a welcome relief from the sweltering heat. I didn't move; my gaze was fixed on the sky above. It seemed to stare back at me, cold, calculating, mocking. The night had taken my only friend, taken him for the second time, the boy that had loved it unconditionally. The bitter irony was not lost on me. Unconditionally, I thought with more than a trace of that same bitterness. Even James had had reservations, at first, knowing about me. But not him.

Not a sigh escaped my lips as I wretchedly tried to get my mind around the fact that the brightest star had gone from my sky. 

  
I wondered about Harry's future. Frankly, the boy was far too reckless, perhaps as much as his father and godfather combined, and likely to become more so now that they had both gone from his world. Not that I couldn't understand where he was coming from, of course; I wondered briefly about my own future before deciding that I, too, would accept when death came for me, and be reunited with my packmates when that time came. But when I could no longer avoid thinking about Sirius alone, I found I wanted nothing more than for that time to come soon.

Why hadn't it been me? I finally found myself wondering. That was the true problem- I could easily have kept Sirius out of the danger, knowing that he would be a prime target. Knowing that he would likely die before his name could be cleared. And who had more to live for than Sirius, who had misspent twelve horrible years in Azkaban, who deserved another chance at life? Who had been so filled with life for as long as I'd known him, who had made such an astonishing and complete recovery after his escape? Who had loved Harry more than he had loved his own life? It wasn't fair. It should have been me; the only thing I had to live for was him.

"Don't be ridiculous, Remus," a soft voice interrupted from behind me. I started a little; I was used to sensing people around me and I was not aware that I had spoken aloud. "You know it was his choice to go along. He would have chosen his death above yours. He would have died for you willingly."

My head dropped a bit, if only because I knew it was true, but I did not remove my eyes from where they rested. "As I should have done for him, Nymphadora Tonks." My gaze remained fixed on the moon that hovered above us, watching us silently.

I heard her come closer, the soft swish of her robes against the metal of the outdoor table as she sat upon it. "He wouldn't have given you the chance, and anyway there wasn't a chance you could take." 

I couldn't hold it in any longer. "What will become of Harry?" It was the one question no one wanted to ask; I privately felt that leaving him with his mother's vile sister was absolutely the worst thing that could be done to the boy, no matter how safe. 

"He'll come here to stay, if he wants, eventually, or so I suspect." There was a soft noise of exhalation. "But I don't know if he'd- I mean, the memories are- and it's so _soon_, Remus…"

How could she be so right? "No one your age should understand like that," I murmured. I wanted, longed, to melt under the touch of her hand on my shoulder, to pour out my grief, but something kept my spine rigid. 

"These are difficult times," she replied, sweeping a hand over my shoulders and down my back before replacing it in her lap. "Most people will understand sooner or later."

"Why couldn't it have been later?"

There was a bitter laugh. "Don't be a selfish, petulant child, Remus. It could as easily have been a child who hadn't lived a full life, or Harry himself, or one of the Weasleys; even Neville Longbottom. We all suffer losses. This isn't a game." Nymphadora Tonks' harsh tones died out in the night, replaced by a few seconds of silence when I felt raw emotion and shame prickling behind my eyelids. 

Then she continued, "I'm sorry, that was out of line, I-"

"It was not," I cut her off, slipping into Professor mode. That was a Sirius term. "You are quite right, Miss Tonks. It is I who should apologize for being a-" I almost smiled to myself, "selfish, petulant child. Now if you would excuse me, I find I have some important matters to think over."

I could almost hear her inner struggle. "Remus, I really don't think-"

"Thank you for your time."

"You shouldn't be alone right now," she said fiercely; impetuously. "Let me help you. Let me - let me stay with you."

The words fell heavy into the night and I would have questioned what I had heard, except for Sirius' teasing remark months ago: _'I think she fancies you, Moony…'_ "Please," I rasped, no longer able to control myself in her presence. I suddenly knew, with a kind of sickening knowledge that makes one want to erase his memory, that if I turned around I would likely find a rather darker-haired member of the Order than was usually Tonks' appearance. "Kindly take the hint and leave me be, Nymphadora. I will see you in the morning."

I pretended not to hear the stifled sob as she left; kept staring at the sky, hoping it would keep me calm, sane; but all it did was remind me of the past I'd left behind. It would have been comforting to see the stars- to be able to wonder if Sirius was watching down from one of them, as well. But only the moon stared back.

__

If you've never stared off in the distance, then your life is a shame.  
And though I'll never forget your face,   
sometimes I can't remember my name.

- Mrs. Potter's Lullaby, _Counting Crows_


	2. Last Light

Nothing Like the Sun

Disclaimer: Same as before. No own, no money, no sue.

Notes: More angst, but a hint of what's to come, I suppose. Couldn't have done this without J.K.R. and the controversial Book Five. At least, I think it's controversial. As evidenced by the addition of a chapter, this will continue in a four-part series: Mourning, Last Light, Apogee, and Dawn. I'm not sure how fast they'll be done, but have a little patience. 

The confusing line in 'Mourning' about the rather darker figure than Remus is used to seeing- a reference to Nymphadora Tonks, Metamorphmagus, in mourning; she darkened her hair and now reminds him of Sirius. (This was intentionally ambiguous, so if you have a better interpretation, stick with it and feel free to share.)

Summary: Testing out a new point of view- not making any promises though. What I will say is, whatever else, this is a non-romance fic. It's a story about loss and coping, _not_ relationships, unless you count the hopeless or the loveless kind.

Thanks: To all who reviewed. You make this worth writing… well no, it's satisfaction in itself, but it's nice to be appreciated/get feedback. Kudos to those of you who spotted the Remus/Tonks, but rest assured this is a _non_-romance, which means no lovey happy ever after. To anyone who _didn't_ see the slashy undertones… well, I guess the slash is underwritten enough, and it's meant to be that way anyway, so don't worry about it too much!

Nothing Like the Sun

Last Light

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The price of a memory is the memory of the sorrow it brings.

It wasn't as if life was dull. On the contrary, life was rather full of things that had to be done, and she rarely had a moment to herself. The Order needed her, the Ministry needed her, Harry needed her. She was needed to mind the house, which was painful; the horrible old bat in the painting refused to stop gloating about her son's death and it was getting everyone down. No strength of a Silencing Charm could even damper her voice a bit. There was always the cleaning out of the horrible house-elf's old den, and caring for Buckbeak. Then there was her "day job", the job of making sure someone was always covering Harry's "guard duty"… and then there was Remus.

Remus seemed to be the only one who did not need her, or, indeed, anyone. He was attempting, courageously but stupidly, she thought, to pull through on his own. She understood. After all, he and Sirius had, well- and Sirius had been the last of his truest friends. He had to spend his full moons alone. That did not require absolute and utter isolation, even after the incident with the house-elf. They all knew perfectly well that Remus had been in his right mind when he had done what he'd done; he'd been taking Wolfsbane right before their eyes.

However, the illusion of independence in a tide of emotion was lost on Nymphadora Tonks. She knew enough about disguises to know that Remus was hiding genuine heartbreak behind anger, frustration, self-loathing and desolation, and it was time that it came out.

He was in the courtyard again, in the same spot that he'd stood every night for a week, staring up at the sky. The moon was much smaller than it had been last time; Tonks felt that the very light of Lupin's soul was waning. Not for the first time since she'd met the werewolf, her heart went out to him. She supposed that she, as well as many other members of the Order, had something of a savior complex. It was odd to think that she'd chosen Remus as her damsel in distress. He was, in all his attitudes thus far, more like a demon.

She stood at the back doorway watching him as she always did, then, with the courage she had mustered only on his first nightly vigil, she stepped up behind him.

He noticed her this time, which was surely an improvement, she thought. It wouldn't do for him to get careless. "What can I do for you, Miss Tonks?" He was using his Professor voice again. It hadn't always irked her so, but then, she hadn't always found him so startlingly attractive. She didn't want to be his pupil.

"You can stop treating me like I'm one of your students, for one," she answered testily. "And stop pretending you're the only one who's emotionally distraught for another. It doesn't help that you keep shutting us out, Remus- we feel like we've lost you, too."

Though she couldn't see his face, she was sure there was a twitch of a sardonic, humorless smile upon it when he spoke. "If you object to the title 'Miss Tonks,' Nymphadora, I'm sure I can arrange to call you something else."

Terrible as it was, and as much as she hated the use of her pretentious first name, she was slightly relieved to hear him joke. "You can call me whatever you want," she returned fairly, "as long as you start being more considerate. I'm not a child, you know."

"Ah, but I am."

This dark accusation caused a swirl of bitterness to well up in her. So that was what this was about, was it? "In terms of emotional expression, yes," Nymphadora answered bluntly, ignoring the scowl she knew had appeared on his face. "Though I suppose that's not entirely your fault. Bloody biased, ridiculous, double-standard, unfair society." Her voice rang with conviction; she had put her heart behind those words.

Remus snorted. "Talkative, aren't you." It wasn't a question. His gaze never left the sky.

She replied with silence not because it was what he deserved, but because it gave him a chance to speak on his own. Some understanding of human (and even not-quite-human) psychology was always useful for an Auror- and a friend. 

Even the great Remus Lupin had to crack sometime. "No stars again tonight," he said at last. He sounded particularly morose. Tonks looked up. It was partly cloudy, and only the half moon shone brilliantly through the haze. She was about to reply when Remus spoke again. "I always liked new moon best because of all the stars."

Privately, Tonks doubted that that was the real reason Remus liked new moon best. "Just because you can't see them doesn't mean they're not there." Remus' posture relaxed slightly, but he gave no audible reaction. Somewhat encouraged, she continued, "Just because something isn't visible doesn't mean it doesn't exist. Remus- you're a good man, and a strong one. But if you keep shutting people out, you're only going to destroy yourself from the inside."

There, she'd said it- she'd voiced the horrible, gut-wrenching suspicion she'd had for weeks. But although she had known Lupin for some time now, she was completely and painfully unaware of how he would react.

Lupin, too, was apparently having some trouble deciding. He was silent for a long moment, and Tonks held her breath as she waited. She had broken many things due to her physical clumsiness, but Remus himself was one thing she was not prepared to see shatter. 

The silence turned out, thankfully, not to be the calm before the storm. He stayed staring at the cloudy sky above, as if searching for answers. She followed his gaze as a gap appeared in the cloud-cover, framing the moon. "Sirius used to warn me about that." He seemed to feel this statement needed to be qualified- "When I thought about my lycanthropy."

She nodded, bracing herself mentally for what she was about to say. "He loved you." It was barely more than a whisper. "When he came to visit all those years ago he talked about you all the time. He talked about the others, too, but even I could tell there was a difference. I just didn't know what it meant- I was only ten when he was arrested." It was hard to think about- the young, free Sirius she remembered. She missed him, too; he'd been part of the small family she knew and could accept. 

Remus was quiet again for another long moment. She imagined that he'd closed his eyes and was remembering, as well. Finally- "Thank you, Tonks."

"Sure," she responded as cheerfully as the situation would allow. It had been a final comment- she knew that he wanted, needed to be left alone. She touched him lightly on the shoulder before retreating into the vile house.

That didn't keep her from watching for a moment longer as clouds rolled again across the sky, in front of the moon. Remus stood rooted to the spot, ever-vigilant, until they obscured the last light.

__

The ghosts of the tilt-a-whirl will linger inside of your head,  
And the Ferris wheel junkies will spin on forever instead;  
When I see you a blanket of stars covers me in bed.

- Mrs. Potter's Lullaby, _Counting Crows_


End file.
